Chapter 10

We left the park and Spot went to the lodging house. I stayed at Connie's for the night, gathering my belongings before I left and saying my few goodbyes. I was planning on heading to Manhattan before I actually went home and began helping Spot tie up loose ends before he left. I kept to myself at dinner, shirking the conversation off to someone else when it was directed at me. The entire house retired early. I caught Connie before she disappeared.

"Hey, Connie. I just, uh, wanted tah thank ya foah lettin' me stay heah. It was, um, quite generous a you. Why'm I bein' so formal? "Uh, I came tah tell ya dat I won't be heah tahmarrah mornin'." Her face showed surprise, although I could tell she was trying to hide it.

"Oh. Um, youah welcome?"

"Uh, well thank ya. Again." Why'm I so bad at dis?

"Anytime." She enveloped me in a hug, a startling gesture coming from her. "Please don't leave." She mumbled into my shoulder. Slowly, I un-tensed and wrapped my arms around her, hesitantly patting her back.

"Sorry, but I gotta. Can I trust you?" her head whipped up, face tear-stained. Sometimes I forgot she was younger than me and she needed moments like these.

"A course." She replied, a little insulted.

"Now, dis is some'in' I need ya tah keep a secret 'till Spot decides tah tell ev'ry one okay? C-Connie, look at me." I glanced around me to see if anyone was lurking in the seemingly empty shadows. A movement behind me caught my eye. "Sneak? Whattaya youse doin' heah? Followin' me 'round again?" I stormed toward him, my anger about him shadowing me constantly beginning to boil again. I sorely hoped this wasn't Spot's doing. "Get ovah heah, ya little buggah." I grabbed his ear, pulling him from behind the door. "Whattaya youse think youah doin'?" I screamed in a hushed tone, trying not to bring on-looking newsies attention to us. "Did Spot putcha up tah dis? Huh? Huh?" I gently pushed him up against the wall and counted to ten, trying to calm down before continuing. My eyes were closed as I apologized. "Sorry. Sorry." I looked at Sneak. "I didn't mean tah lose me tempah. Did he putcha up tah dis, dough?"

"Geez, Trous, Spot was right. He shoulda named ya Tempah."

I groaned. "What's Spot tellin' youse now? But, 'fore I get off track, did Spot putcha up tah dis? I gotta know, Sneak. 'Fore I get mad atcha again."

"No. I came tah see if youse was doin' okay. Spot wasn't involved at all."

"Oh. Well, next time, gimme a little warnin' will ya? An' don' eavesdrop on people like dat. Ya gotta loin tah stop followin' people 'round 'less ya ordahed, or dey ask ya to. Got it?" He nodded, and with a hop, skip and a jump he was out the door. "Now, go home an' get some sleep, ya bummah!" I smiled at him as he turned around and waved enthusiastically. I shook my head and spun back into the house. "Sorry 'bout dat. Just one a me boys gettin' hisself intah trouble again. Now, wheah were we?"

"Uh… If I could keep a secret?"

"Oh, yeah! Um, so can ya?"

"Well, suah. I been doin' it foah yeahs."

"Connie, wese all got ouah own secrets. 'Course we can keep dose." I replied, my back turned; I was inspecting a painting on the wall. "We just try not tah get involved in udda people's. So, I'm gonna put me faith in ya and tell ya dis one." I whirled around and pointed my finger at her, punctuating the air. "But if ya mess up—mess up even one time—it ain't gonna be me youah gonna have tah face. It's gonna be Spot."

"Well, I'm glad ya puttin' youah trust in me. I'll keep da secret. But, uh—" I cut her off.

"No 'but's' Con."

"No, but—"

"Dere's no 'but's'. No conditions."

"Wouldja just listen?! What's da secret?"

"Oh. Dat 'but'. Sorry."

"'S okay. So, what is it?" I led her into the small kitchen by her shoulders, making sure no one was around to overhear us.

"He's goin' off tah war." She gasped.

"N- no. He—he just can't."

"Well, he's gonna. Dere ain't gonna be no talkin' him outta anyt'ing dis time."

"It'll be like losin' a bruddah."

"Youse got no idea." Her hand was over her mouth, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"Why's 'e goin'?"

"'Cause I left. Said 'e felt like 'e didn't have no purpose no moah." She made an involuntary 'aw' sound and I rolled my eyes. I made sure she was okay and then headed out for Manhattan, to put my plan into action.

It was nearing dawn and Trousers still wasn't back. The air was cold on the roof, even for an August morning. I was getting worried. It just wasn't like her to stay out all night like this. But, I guess she never really told me when or if she was going to be back. It was well past sunrise when I finally dozed off, filled with even more worry for her than I was used to.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the city as I made my way towards Manhattan. I was almost to the end of the Brooklyn Bridge and the journey wasn't much longer after that. Most of the boys were already up and out the door when I reached their lodge, running and playing, jumping over each other and fake sword fighting. It was a more amusing sight than what happened on a daily basis in Brooklyn. I was amazed at how well these boys could handle waking up at the crack of dawn—all the while keeping a positive and upbeat attitude. Well, all except for Skittery, that is.

Race sniffed heavily. "Deah me," he said fanning his face. "What is dat unpleasant aroma? I feah da sewah may have backed up durin' da night." He smacked Blink lightly, who in turn smacked Mush.

"Nah, too rotten tah be da sewah." Boots commented.

"Yeah, yeah. Must be da Delancey Bruddahs!" Crutchy cried enthusiastically as they all burst into laughter at the over used joke. I was leaned against the wall and just rolled my eyes.

"Hiya, boys." All of them were still chuckling as Oscar grabbed a young boy and threw him to the ground. A chorus of "Aws" and "Heys" rang through the crowd. Da Delancey Bruddahs? I t'ought Kelly kicked 'em out durin' da strike. Guess I t'ought wrong.

Waiting for my chance to talk to Jack, I observed. Most of them still worked in perfect harmony. It seemed like after the strike, we'd all grown substantially closer. I was honestly surprised Cowboy was still leader, that he hadn't taken off yet. He was 19 now, much too old to be living at the lodging house. We'd all be noticeably sad when he left. Spot had at least the rest of this year and the beginning of next, and I had a little over two years. But, Spot and I had living arrangements, so we could still be newsies if we chose, although at our ages it was hard, and we'd have to get better jobs to keep up with the rent of the apartment.

"Hey, Jacky-boy." I said, standing aside from the line. I wasn't going to sell papes, seeing as I was in Manhattan. We had respect enough not to take business from other leader's turf, and they had enough respect to not sell in Brooklyn in return.

As soon as he was done buying papes and jokingly teasing the new paper distributer—the Manhattan newsies were actually fond of this one—I pulled him away from his admirers.

"Heya Trous. What brings ya tah dese parts?" I chuckled and rolled my eyes.

"Well, I gots some convincin' fah ya tah help me wid."

"Whattaya mean?"

"Go sell ya papes, Jack. Actually, mind if Ise come wid ya? I t'ink I can explain while youse sell."

"Us, suah. Whatevah."

I followed him through the streets of Manhattan, winding and twisting between the people in the already bustling crowd.

"Hey, uh, Cowboy!" I yelled over the noise. "Mind slowin' down some? I'm losin' ya heah." I caught up to him fairly quickly after that, and we began moving, him not saying a work. I looked up at him and squinted through the sun blinding me. "Cat got your tongue, Kelly?" I asked, chuckling.

He laughed humorlessly. "Nah, jus' a lot on my mind. Like, how much longah do Ise gots heah? Who'm I gonna put in chahge when I do leave? Where'm I gonna go? Things like dat."

"Ah." I said as we arrived at a boxing ring in the middle of a square, people crowded around it, sitting virtually anywhere they could find, cheering on their favorite opponent. "I get da feelin'. And I'm about tah put a lot moah on ya mind. Listen close, Jacky-boy, an' don' tell anybody." I leaned in closer as he sold a pape. "Spot's goin' off tah war."

He stopped dead in his tracks. "What did youse jus' say?"

"Aw, you hoid me. Spot's goin' tah war. An' he wants me tah run Brooklyn foah him while 'e's gone."

"Well, we can't have dat happen, now can we? Brooklyn ain't Brooklyn widdout Spot Conlon. I mean, no offense tah youse, Trousahs, but you ain't 'xactly Spot material."

"Yeah, jus' keep addin' insult tah injahry, why don'tcha?" I laughed. "So, whatta wese gonna do about it?"

"I dunno yet. Gimme a few days, an' I'll send a boid ovah tah bring ya back heah. Den we can discuss it." Always the leader, Jack. So diplomatic.

"Awright. Woiks fah me. But, uh, one moah stipulation. Don't fahget, youse ain't s'pposed tah tell no one. Not a soul. Heck, I ain't even s'pposed tah be tellin' youse. But I needed help. An' dat's sayin' some'in', 'cause I rarely go tah anyone fah help." He studied me quietly for a second, as if sizing me up. I rolled my eyes and shifted from foot to foot uncomfortable and impatient.

"You have my woid. Not a peep tah anyone." We spit-shook and I went to head back to Brooklyn.

"Flash!" I yelled, hoping to God that he hadn't gone out selling today. I needed a bird to go trail Trousers. "Hey, Sneak. Wheah ya been?"

"Coney Island. I was checkin' up on Trousahs." I breathed a sigh of relief.

"She okay? What's she doin'?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She was talkin' tah Connie when I got dere. She shooed me out den told me some'in' 'bout not followin' people around, 'cause apparently dey don't like it." He said nonchalantly, skipping up the stairs to the main bunkroom. I rolled my eyes. How could he be so carefree?

"Wait!" He stopped just short of the top landing. "Have youse seen any a da boids?"

"Nah… Not tahday. But I did see Bouncah and Doubt down at da docks. She's teachin' him how tah swim. Youse could try one a dem." And with that, he walked into the room room.

At the docks, I found Doubt and Bouncer in the water, true to Sneak's word.

"Heya, kids! How's da wadda?" I stood on the edge, feet shoulder width apart. They looked up at me startled.

"Well, hey, Spot. Fancy seein' youse heah." Doubt chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah. Swimmin's ovah. Outta da wadda. Ise got a job fah youse." I smirked down at them. Obeying orders, they clambered out, creating puddles that evaporated almost as soon as they hit the deck. I wiped my forehead with the back of my arm.

"T'anks, Doubt."

"No prob, kid. Feels good anyways it's so hot out heah."

"'Ey!" I yelled over the increasing level of noise that was forming between the two of them. "Cut the chitchat an' listen up!" They immediately fell silent.

"Sorry." Doubt mumbled.

"Dat's bettah. Now, listen close. Dis job requires da skill of a boid. Now, I know neidah a youse ahe very talented at dis, considering youse ain't boids, so youse gonna have tah pay close attention tah where ya goin'." Doubt put up a hand.

"Wese know. Bouncah and I—well, let's jus' say most a us dat ain't boids know a lot about bein' boids an' trailin' 'em too. How do ya think woid gets around so fast?"

"Uh-huh. Well, then, I need ya tah go find Trousahs, wheahevah she is."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n!" Bouncer shouted and saluted. Him and a few of the younger boys had taken to playing pirates lately. I smiled and patted the kid on the head.

"Report back tah me as soon as ya find anyt'ing new."

Footsteps echoed behind me loud and fast. No escape from my pounding heart and sweaty palms. A figure loomed in front of me, capturing me and rendering my limbs useless. Other figures glided from the shadow and stars erupted in my eyes as a blunt object was sent hurtling toward my head, making my world go black.

"Spot, Spot, Spot!" Bouncer and Doubt screamed from the end of the docks.

"Any news?" I asked as they heaved and coughed, catching their breath, Doubt stopping herself with my throne of crates. I already knew the answer, considering that whenever there was trouble brewin' and someone who wasn't a bird delivered the news they always shouted my name like that from the other end of the docks. Doubt nodded her head vigorously, swallowing hard.

"Y-yeah. Trous-Trousahs was taken." I sat up straight, trying to keep from panicking.

"Taken? Taken wheah? An' by who?"

"I-I dunno. Wese found someone tah—a boid—tah trail 'em tah wheahevah dey's goin', so's as tah not give us away."

"Smaht idea. Any idea who took 'er?"

"Mm… Maybe paht a Cheat's gang? Da one's who been causin' awl da trouble lately." My eyes widened and I groaned, sinking back into my chair.

"Awright. T'anks. We'll wait fah da boid tah come back, den see what wese can do. Jus' sit tight fah now." Okay Spot. Relax. Don't let 'em gat tah ya. I reprimanded myself. But deys got Trousahs! How'm I s'pposed tah relax when de gots da second t'ing dat makes my life worth livin'?! I rolled my eyes. Great… Now Ise arguin' wid meself. Least it ain't out loud. Me newsies would t'ink I'm crazy.

Wheah am I? I asked, pushing myself up with my bound hands and applying pressure to the throbbing side of my head.

"Well, look who fin'lly decided tah wake up from her nice little nap." A cold voice said from the darkness.

"Cheat." I spat. "Spot ain't gonna be happy when he finds out 'bout dis." He laughed mirthlessly.

"Spot. Sweethaht, no one knows wheah youse is. Ise almost suah even you don'. Dere's no one tah heah ya scream. No one tah cahe if ya die. Dey won't even know. 'Course, dey won't notice, an' by da time dey discovah wheah youse ahe, you'll be long dead an' disposed a. Nice an' easy, an' no one'll suspect a t'ing." Oh, dat boy suah knows how tah push me buttons. Sweethaht. Call me dat one moah time, kid, an' I'll bust ya lip!

"How many times does I gotta tell ya? Don' call me dat! Oh, an' I'd be sahprised if Spot ain't on 'is way ovah heah now. Wese got boids quieter den shadows. Like a jungle cat stalkin' its prey. Heck, dere's prolly one who's listenin' tah dis convahsation right now." Cheat bolted out of his seat, wielding a knife in front of him and spinning in circles as if someone was going to jump out and attack him at any moment. I chuckled.

"Geez, Cheat. I ain't eve n got protection an' I ain't scahed a youse. Cowahd." He stormed toward me as I glared up at him. He backhanded me, causing my head to whip around painfully and my hair, wet from the earlier rain, to stick to my face.

"Listen, an' listen good, Sweethaht." I cringed at the over used term. "Ain't no one heah fah miles around. Ya in the middle a no wheah. No one's heah tah save ya, an' ain't no one gonna. So I wouldn't getcha hopes up. Sweethaht. I'm leavin' now. Iron or Nails'll be gaurdin' ya. Twenty-fouah houah watch, got it, Sweethaht? He patted me on the head like someone would a little kid. The door opened and I caught a glimpse of where I was as the moonlight illuminated the spacious room I was being held in. Something was leaking somewhere, I could hear that much. I was situated in the middle of the room; windows were both to my right and left bars strung across them. The floor beneath me was cold and wet. I felt around my ankles with my imprisoned hands. Aha! Found it! Dumb idea to bind someone's hand in front a dem. I rolled my eyes and pulled out my knife. And you didn't even take my weapons. Idiot! I could feel my slingshot in my left back pocket and shooters in my front one. Sawing against the ropes holding my ankles, my blade snapped. I cried out in frustration. I searched for the remains on the ground and nicked my hand in the process. After freeing my feet, I began on my hands. Well dis is gonna take a while… The rope was thick and it was bound three times around. After what was probably hours, I finally severed all three layers.

"Yes!" I nearly screamed.

"'Ey! What's goin' on in dere?" Silence answered him, and again as he asked the demanded once more. "Ah fahget about it." I was guessing it was either Iron or Nails judging from my previous conversation with Cheat. I couldn't discern which because I hadn't ever heard either of them talk. I climbed up on the windowsill, a difficult task considering there weren't any footholds and the walls were slimy. As I watched the sun slog over the horizon I pondered how I was supposed to escape, or if anybody even knew where I was. I still had my slingshot and blade, so I could plan something with those.

My left leg was dangling over the edge, my right drawn up to my chest, arms slung around it. My thoughts began to stray and I became drowsy as the sun bloomed into full view, hanging lazily over the hills. I must have been a long way out of the city, seeing as there were no buildings or any noise for what seemed like miles around.

I woke up on the damp, hard ground, a dull ache in the side of my head—again. Apparently I had hit it on the chair Cheat had knocked over earlier. I was going to wake up with brain damage one of these days at this rate.

Days passed and I still hadn't figured out an escape plan. Cheat came by regularly both morning and evening.

"You'll see." I said to him one night as he administered his emotional and mental abuse. It hadn't started affecting me yet, seeing as I was a newsies and I got it from people of all types on the street daily. Of course I was used to it. "He'll come. He'll rescue me." My back was turned to him, arms folded across my chest, "I'll prove you wrong."

"Just one question fah ya." He said that same night before he left. "How'd ya manage tah get out a dose ropes?" I could feel part of the cold blade in my boot, pressing against my ankle. My slingshot and shooters were still tucked safely away in my pockets.

"Nex' time ya captcha someone, ya might wanna t'ink about confiscating dere weapons." He left without another word, not even bothering to take my weapons away. He still thought I wasn't a threat.

It had been months so far and my deportation was in a few days. Brooklyn, 'Hattan, Queens. Harlem and Coney Island had all fanned out over these worrisome and dismal months, searching for Trousers unsuccessfully.

Still, no sign of Trousers even after the birds started trailing Cheat and his gang everywhere. I thought it odd that there was also no sign of Iron or Nails. Of course, that was just hearsay, so I didn't think too much of it as I boarded the ship to the Philippines.

I was pacing back and forth around the perimeter of my prison. A plan had been hatching in my mind for quite some time; I just had to figure out how to string it all together. I had been timing Cheat's comings and goings. He came twice each week I was guessing about every Tuesday and Thursday. My slingshot was ready to go, still tucked in my back pocket. I was planning on sitting on the windowsill and striking after dark. I'd aim at his head, illuminated by the moonlight, then fire, hopefully knocking him out. His thugs would be easier to handle, considering they were pretty thick headed.

I was anticipating an early evening visit from Cheat, if I had timed everything right. As soon as I heard him conversing with one of his cronies, I would scramble up onto my perch and aim. Soon after I tired of my pacing I caught wind of commotion outside. Acting fast, I steadied myself, already on my windowsill and aimed for the door. Hopefully, my absence would cause minor confusion, giving me the opportunity to get away.

The jangle of keys in a lock. The clanging of the door as it burst open. The way time slowed down as I closed one eye and focused my aim on his temple. The rushing of blood and the pounding of my heart in my ears. My sweaty palms. Readjusting my grip on the handle and the agonizingly slow pace at which the shooter made toward its target. The cracking noise it made as it nailed him just above his right eye. No! Dat didn't give me da break I needed! Stupid Cheat! I thought, sprinting past him and punching Nails in the face. If ya hadn't been keepin' me captive I coulda made dat shot! I shoulda practiced. No time tah t'ink about dat now! Run! I risked a glance over my shoulder. Crumbs! Both of them were right behind me. I increased my speed hoping they would fall behind some. I wasn't going down with at least a fighting chance.

I was suddenly ripped backwards by my shirt collar. It was the shirt Spot had given me a couple years ago after he'd outgrown it. The green and white plaid one he always used to wear during the strike. My head smashed into the ground forcefully and I cried out in pain. My screams were carried off by the late evening breeze, not a soul to hear my torturous laments, as Cheat and Nails ravaged my body, beating me to unconsciousness.

If any of you have any tips on how to make my kidnapping scene better- 'cause I know it sucks, please tell me. Or, you could just rewrite it yourself, send it to me and I'll give you credit for it :) Thanks